Crashing Down
by DevilsCake
Summary: AU High school. Alfred's world come crashing down. He is confused and lost. Yet, no one can really help since it affects all of them. WARNINGS: Character death and mention of murder. Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N: **AU high school. I wasn't sure to publish this one, but I did. Please read the warnings. I don't want hate on this. Critical reviews, I don't care, just no hate. I wrote this more for myself, but I feel like this is my best work, so I wanted to share it with you!

**Disclaimer**: Hetalia is not mine.

**Warnings:** Character death, mention of triple murder. Again, **death and murder**. If you're sensible or going through rough time concerning the topics, I don't suggest you read.

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He didn't know how it happened. He didn't know why, but he knew how and that's something he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He was downright confused, lost and probably disconnected from real life. He wanted to know why, what had happened, how it happened but at the same time he didn't want to know. He was confused, pretty much like everybody else. He couldn't believe such thing had happened. He was lost, why would whatever god above would let that happen. He wasn't a believer in any religion, but if he dared believe in someone who is apparently there to watch over them, he would feel anger rising up.

He was angry. Angry that it happened. He couldn't come back in the past and changed how things went today. Even if he could go in the past he wouldn't be able to change anything. He was at the right place at the right moment, but a part of him wanted him to be at the wrong place, he wished he was a superhero he may had a chance to stop it. But who was he kidding? He was at school, like everyone else, like every week day of his life. He was unable to change thing and damn that hurts.

It started with a simple article on the internet at lunch. Some younger students were on their phone looking what was new and they came upon a title a bad one, but nothing really new to the world. There was a murder. People are used to hearing such thing. A murder in their home town, so what, it happened before and it's not like they had to be worry about anything. What bothered him is that his friend would not answer the phone. He would not text back, he wasn't at school. Only a coincidence. He probably had an appointment to the doctor's office and couldn't be on his phone at the moment. Then, those younger students came towards him and his other friends. They asked him if the house in the picture was his friend's house. It was. He read the headline and though it was a joke. A really bad joke. He felt a lump forming in his throat and he didn't say anything. He grabbed his phone and called at his friend's number. His cellphone and his house phone. No answers. He tried again. And again. And again. Every time the other end would beep and go onto voicemail he felt his heart sink deeper into his chest. His other friends started panicking a little. They also tried to call, to text, to Facebook, to look for more details, but nothing. They didn't have news from their friend who lived in the house where a murder happened.

He felt awful. He felt the tears coming up. His food long forgotten on the table he stood up and tried to leave the pity stares he was receiving. He didn't want to lose hope. His friend was still alive; everything was a coincidence wasn't it? It's always happening to others, never to us. It couldn't be. He refused to believe that article, the non-answered calls. He had to see it to believe it. His friends were behind him. They were all in the same state. They didn't want to believe. If they did, they would be giving up on their friend, right? As long as they though that he was alive he would be, right?

The teachers heard about the article and saw the reality. They got all the students in the student's grade and brought them in a room. It was painfully silent, except from small coughs or sniffs coming from there and there. Only one person was missing, the one who nobody had news from. The unspeakable hung heavy in the air. Nobody wanted to say what everybody knew, they didn't want to believe and nobody wanted to lose hope too soon. The music teacher did try to comfort them, but really, he sucked at it. His speech came out a little like this:

-We don't know if it's him. They didn't identify the victims, it might not be him.

Everybody in the room had a pitiful silence laugh at that. Sure, they didn't officially know who the victims were, because there was more than one, probably his boyfriend and his mother or his sister. They didn't know. The failed attempt of the Austrian music teacher was in vain. The room stayed silent and the more and more time was ticking the more they would cry and stop crying. Alfred would still try to call his best friend. He never answered. The missing Canadian boy didn't answer the American, nor the Cuban or the Russian. He didn't answer his friends from the hockey team, the Nordic's as they would call themselves. He wouldn't answer the calls from his friends from the school musical in which he had a part.

The afternoon classes were suspended. The direction of the school had call over psychologists so the students could talk with them. They even tried some words that probably were not meant to reassure them, but more to prepare them for what was to come.

- We can't do a lot. We have facts and we make conclusions from the facts that are there.

Then, he left. Nobody really wanted to talk about it. They would be losing all hope by doing so. So they sat there in small groups, in silence with a psychologist. They wouldn't let him out and drive to his friend's place and get the answers he wanted. They said it would be dangerous. Due to his state of mind.

One of his friends had managed to get out and go to the damned house. She talked to the police and came back to tell what everyone knew but none wanted to believe. It was his best friend who was murdered, along with his boyfriend that had moved with his family from Netherlands five years ago. They started dating three years ago. The last victim was his best friend's adopted sister from Mexico. The girl was there at the wrong moment. They were going to school. They were about to leave the house. The killer was arrested. They didn't need much proof. He was in the house, with the gun and was waiting for the police.

Back at the high school, hell was about to break loose. The Canadian boy who was killed, he was nice to everyone. Not once did he talk bad about someone. He was a talented artist with dreams and hopes. He had an important part in the play, it was his favourite. He was so excited to perform it in front of an audience. He was a great hockey player. He would have gone far; he had a future in the sport. Most of all, he was nice. He would never judge someone. He would say hi to almost everybody when they would cross path in the hallways. He would make jokes in class and also be serious student. He was easy-going and so generous. He cared about nature and others' well-being before his own. He had a project to plant three in a park in the town so people could come and walk. He should never have left. Nobody was in the right to take his life away. Nobody had a reason to take his life. He was loved from everybody, almost. Matthew didn't have enemies. He had strangers, acquaintances, friends and a family, but no enemies.

Alfred wanted to scream, to run, to fly away from this place. From the truth. He wanted nothing more than waking up from the nightmare he was having. He felt hands on his shoulder from Matthew's friend from the musical. He felt the hugs from Matthew's teammates. He even felt the comforting gesture from the Russian guy and he was grateful. He didn't really like the guy, but right now, nothing mattered. He was afraid, he was lost, and he was confused. He felt like throwing punches at the person who allowed such a thing to happen. If he ever believed in a god up there, he didn't anymore.

Today, Alfred lost a best friend, a brother, a soul mate.* He couldn't feel anything else than numbness. The pain was too much that his heart locked himself down for now. The pain was so much he didn't believe it. His brain wouldn't accept the facts. It wouldn't let him accept anything right now. Alfred had shut down from the real world. He didn't know where he was, what he had to do, what to do. His best friend was killed and Alfred's world came crashing down around him.

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*****: I believe a soul mate can be found in a really close friend. No needs to be lovers. I believe a soul mate is someone with whom you can just feel good around. Someone you understand without words, someone with whom you share stupid ideas and sometimes you disagree. It's your soul mate, but it can be a friend that you'll have all your life. I believe soul mates are not only in terms of love love relationship.

**A.N:** I can continue the story if you want, but for now it's a one-shot. Believe it or not, I do have a following to this, so if you want the rest you can just say it. It's mainly the time period after the initial shock. Again, no hate please, you can go hate on other stories, but not this one. It's just really important to me, please? Hope you liked it!


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N : **Here's the second part since two of you asked. I wished I could have replied, but there it is.

**Warnings**: Character death, depression-ish, mention of murder.

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The next day, Alfred went at school. He cried all night, wishing it was all a bad dream, but he finally fell asleep. Tired of crying. Tired of feeling the pain he had. Tired of feeling his heart, his body and his mind ache so much. When he woke up, his dad wasn't at home. The blond boy had expected him to at least be there for him, but he wasn't. At school, people were acting as if nothing happened. They were smiling, laughing and living their happy life. Even Matthew's teammates were having the time of their life. Alfred was angry at them. Angry that they all forgot that Matthew was just killed. He was about to yell at them when he felt a small and gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned to see those violet eyes, this soft shy happy smile. The blond hair. "What are you so worked up about Al?" asked the quiet voice he knew so well. It was Matthew, Matthew who was still alive, flesh and blood right next to him. He hugged him, hard, afraid to let go, afraid that if he stops he'll be out of reach again. He cried in Matthew's chest repeating the same words. "You're here! Thanks god you're here, I love you so much bro. don't ever frighten me ever again like this" "I love you so much, thank you so much for being here" And Matthew laughed. "I love you too Al, what got into you? "

Oh how he wished it happened like that. The truth is when he went downstairs this morning; his dad was there, in the kitchen, holding the newspaper. On the front page was the photo of Matthew, Tim and Maria. The black bold letters brought him back to reality like the world had just fallen on him without warning. He could read: "**Triple Murder" "**_**Triangle love would be the cause" **_He felt his knees go weak, and sat on the floor and cried. He didn't have any tears left, but he sobbed anyway, his dad trying to comfort him as much as he can. But really, what could he do?

He went to school, his dad seeing his friends would help him. Alfred didn't say that he wouldn't have any friends if that means he could have Matthew alive again. He would rather live forever alone, but still having Matthew breathing. He didn't eat. He just couldn't. At school, the atmosphere was heavy and Alfred couldn't handle it. They all felt sorry for what happen, but they didn't dare to come close to Alfred. After all, he was Matthew's best friend, they were always together, they didn't have the right to go and see him. Alfred never felt so alone. He wanted Matthew to be with him, as selfish as that sound; he wanted Matthew to be alive, to be with him, laughing, joking, and breathing.

As the day advance, Alfred started to stop feeling his pain. As if he aches too much, his mind and body shut down. He was walking, going to classes, talking like he was a robot who was told to do so. Every action was mechanical, he didn't want his personality to resurface, it would be too painful for him to handle. He had broken couple of his bones, lost all of his grand-parents, but nothing hurts as much as losing Matthew. In his worst nightmares he didn't lose Matthew, the Canadian was always with him and alive. He never died, he couldn't die, but that bastard of a killer had other plans in head. The worst, he wasn't eighteen; he wouldn't be judge like an adult, and that made Alfred see red. He swore he would kill the guy if he ever came out of jail.

The next few months were painful. He went at the funerals, it was hard, everything was just too hard. He didn't want to say goodbye to his Mattie, but they forced to. They buried him six feet underground and all he had been a sad grey stone that didn't reflect Matthew's personality and photos of them. He couldn't look at the photos too long, he would start to cry. Every day he would go on Matthew's Facebook page and read the messages they send each other. He would ignore the sympathy messages. Every once in a while he would go and visit Matthew at the cemetery, talk to him aloud or in his head. At this point he didn't care if he looked crazy, he had already lost one of his life's foundation, losing the others didn't seem as painful.

To say after six months that Alfred started feeling better was an understatement. He ate a little every day, smiles and laughs at jokes. He kept playing baseball and won the championship for Matthew. He realised they grew closer sine Matthew died, but that didn't mean he was repaired. He still felt empty. He had something missing inside of him and he knew he could never have it back. He would cry at night from time to time, when everything was just too much. Everyday he would walk with a hole in his soul, the hole that Matthew left when he was force to leave his life. Alfred wondered if one day this hole would stop aching so bad. Event when he started college the hole was still wide open, not even close to heal. He doubted he would heal one day, but he lived his life for Matthew. He wouldn't die. Wherever he went, he would bring Matthew with him. When he visited Europe, Matthew's dream, he knew Matthew was with him. He would speak to the soft blond as if he was next to him and people would often think he is crazy, but he knew Matthew was listening to him up there, wherever he was. The hole, Alfred could still feel it, months had passed, so many things happened, but the hole never healed. It couldn't and Alfred would still cry at the loss of Matthew. He still hurts from the lost and nobody could heal him. Not therapist, not his parents, no one. Alfred learned to live with the painful hole inside of his soul. Its way worse than a broken bone; those could be mended, not soul.

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**A.N: **There it is, the following. There is no event whatsoever but two people asked for this so here it is.


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